


Lean On Me

by SevenSeasOfSigh



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Everyone Is Gay, Hepatitis, I’ll add more tags later, John is a Saint, Loosely based on the song Lean On Me, M/M, Protective Brian May, Roger is just straight up not having a great time, Sick Roger Taylor (Queen), Sickfic, What-If, as always bc I can barely write straight couples, freddie is a worried mom, probably a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenSeasOfSigh/pseuds/SevenSeasOfSigh
Summary: In 1974, Queen was in the midst of a promotional tour when disaster struck. Roger was sick, sicker than he'd ever been. Just when he thought he would fall apart, he found someone to lean on.Or, what if Roger had gotten sick instead of Brian.Maylor
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Lean On Me

**_May 11, 1974_ **

A typical Saturday night, that's all it was. A Saturday night with a filled up venue, a Saturday night that was exciting, exhilarating.

Exhausting was the only word that Roger would use to describe it. By the end of the concert, he was tired and irritable. So when a tomato flew up on the stage and smacked Brian in the face, he _lost_ it.

Climbing down from his drum set, he charged to the front of the stage. Brian was wiping the juice off his face as Freddie and John tried to hold the blond back.

Ultimately, they failed and Roger grabbed the tomato and threw it right back at the guy who was sitting smugly in the front row, hitting him directly in the eye. He was the same one hurling insults at them the entire time. The drummer made a move to jump off the stage to really show him who he was messing with when Brian grabbed his arm.

"It's not worth it, Rog." Brian told him, the grip on his arm becoming more of a comfort than anything else. It grounded him enough to where his anger wasn't in overdrive anymore and his exhaustion peaked through his unsteady breaths.

"I'm fine." Roger ripped his arm away, making a beeline off the stage. He didn't bother coming back out to thank the audience. What was there to thank? They'd been dead the whole night, his drumming was shit, and he couldn't think of a single pleasant thing to say to them.

Back in the safety of the dressing room they shared, something that normally didn't bother him, but seemed like the worst possible arrangement in that specific moment. He headed for the sink, slathering his face with the cold cream Freddie had stocked up on. The cool cream felt nice against his flushed face, the cool water afterwards was enough to make him cry out in relief.

After a few minutes, his face was clean from any of the makeup Freddie had smeared on it and he was resting on the couch in one of the complimentary robes the venue had left for them. His eyes were shut as tried to block out the heavy lights in the room. He wanted nothing more than to shower and go to sleep.

God, he couldn't remember ever being this tired.

He felt the couch dip down, which would normally be easy to ignore if it weren't for the eyes he felt burning into him.

"Take a picture, Bri, it'll last longer." Roger spat weakly. He knew exactly who it was and he wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

"Rog, you really shouldn't have done that." Brian sighed. "I was fine, now it's going to be up in the papers."

"Fuck the papers and fuck that guy." Roger opened his eyes, looking at Brian with his eyebrows scrunched up. "And who said I did it for you? He was hurling shit at us all night. I hope I broke his fucking eye."

"Okay, fine, but still. You can't just...lose it on stage like that." Brian continued on his argument in that soft condescending he loved to use so much.

"Well, fuck you too."

"Roger, I'm serious."

Roger wanted to kill him.

"Brian, I swear to god if you don't leave me the hell alone, I will—" Roger squeezed his eyes shut, his hands covering them as he groaned in pain. A splitting pain shot through his head, a wave a nausea hitting him all at once.

"Rog?"

"I'm fine. Just turn the bloody lights down, why're they so bright? I can't fucking..." Palming his eyes, he tried to come up with the words but his head was split. He couldn't so much as form an intelligent though let alone speak one aloud. "God..."

"Hey, hey, Roger." Brian's arms were on his shoulders now, Roger opened his eyes for a second to see the concerned look on his friends face as well as Freddie and John standing behind him with their own worried looks.

"Fine! I'm fine!" Roger shook his head. "Just a headache." He finally got out, feeling small against their questioning stares. "Let's go back to the hotel, please." He gave up fighting. He couldn't muster up the energy to yell.

The three shared a look. Normally Roger was the first one to suggest going out after a concert, even when the concert ended up being complete shit like the one they had just played. It was nothing with them, it was just a dead crowd. He couldn't blame them too much, they were only the opening band.

"Of course, darling." Freddie swiped a bit of hair out of the blonds face and frowned even deeper. "Roger, you're burning up."

"Ate something bad." Roger pushed his hand away, pulling himself up to his feet.

John helped steady him, holding his arm as the blond swayed. His eyes had taken on a yellow tinge and his skin wasn't far behind. Had he looked like this all day? "You don't look well, mate."

"Deaky, 'm fine. Bugger off." Roger felt the room start to spin. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to focus on walking to the door. He hadn't had a drop to drink, he wasn't dehydrated, hadn't taken any strange drugs or ingested anything that could potentially be spiked with a psychedelic. He had even eaten two meals already that day. He wasn't hungry at all.

He struggled to keep his eyes open as he absentmindedly clung to the wall. "I'm just tired." He said, shaking his head slightly. The movement almost sent him over the edge, swallowing back the rising bile only made him feel worse. He was definitely not just tired.

Brian looked at him helplessly, taking his arm and draping it over his shoulder. "Did you take something?" He asked, immediately regretting it when he was met with three icy glares.

"No, Brian, I didn't fucking take anything." He felt like shit, his words came out weak, his head feeling lighter and lighter as the moments passed. "Flu."

"This isn't the flu, darling." Freddie was cupping his cheeks now. He sighed at the cold feeling of his hands, pressing his cheek into them.

He felt his eyes welling up with tears as his knees began to buckle from under him.

"I don't feel good." He practically whined, looking at them with his tear filled eyes. The concerned looks he was met with made guilt swirl deep in his gut.

Roger stepped backwards from their grasps, heading to the door. He needed fresh air, the room was becoming overwhelming. It felt as if the walks were crashing in on him and his vision was becoming cloudy.

"Rog?" He wasn't sure who called his name, the voice sounded as if he was underwater.

Turning around to look at him, he opened his mouth to say something. Before he could get any words out, he doubled over and emptied his stomach onto the floor in front of him. Much to his horror, he couldn't stop.

Heaving and sobbing, he stumbled towards the closest thing he could grasp onto. He gripped into the table, looking up at the three worried faces, all of which stared on in horror.

He didn't have the strength to be annoyed at their staring. He just shook, swaying in his spot as he looked to them with wide eyes.

"Help..." He forced out, his voice raw.

Before they could respond, his vision went black.

" _Roger_!"


End file.
